A Repentant Jacksonman

Cincinnati Daily Gazette
August 22, 1834

(At a meeting recently held at Chambersburg, in Pennsylvania, Mr. Dunlop, who had been a
strong friend of
Jackson, renownced his support. From a speech of great talent and humor we extract the
following, which is
well worthy of perusal. Mr. D is a mechanic. By a number of our citizens he may be
recollected, as the man
who made the famous speech in the Manufactuer's Convention here, on the subject of axes.
He seemed then
to have about as much fear of British axes, as he has now of the "Hero of two wars and a
hundred broils.")

I was once, sir, a follower of Jackson -- I say follower, for no one who has aided him to
degrade,
endanger, distress and insult his country, deserves an epithet more courteous. I then thought
him
firm in his purpose, true to his profession, patriotic in his measures, and choice of his
associates. I
now think him neither.

I need not detain this assemblage forty days and forty nights in breaking up the great deep,
and
opening the windows of his infirmities, and pouring forth the floods of his folly, the
vacillations of
his conduct, the vagaries of his passions. I need not portray his exercises of unjustifiable
power,
his disregard of the constituted authorities of the country, and his indifference to the
complaints of
the people. I need not compile a harmony, or I had better say a discordance, of his political
doctrines, or draw a contrast between his professions when a candidate, his meek
submissions to
the will of the people before his election, and the performances of the man, when invested
with
authority, and his contempt for the people when he had received the last favors he could
hope
to
enjoy. These things are familiar to us all, and are fully written in the chronicles of the times.

We are told Mr. Chairman, that we are too deeply indebted to this our hero to repine. The
fawning sycophants that minister to his vanity, tell us we owe General Jackson an immense
debet
for the service he has rendered to our country -- that he fought and gained the battle of the
25th
Dec., of Orleans, and Eckmuefaw, forsooth.

What, sir, do the people of this republic owe General Jackson? It is gratitude? If it is, has he
not
had it to the fullest measure? Has not the tributes of hearts been unceasingly poured out for
the
last nineteen years to him? Has he not received the thanks of his nation from individuals,
from
public meetings, from the Assemblies of the Representatives of the people through his whole
United Nation? Have not votes of public thanks been sufficiently tendered to him? Has he
not
received testimonials of our estimation of his services, in swords and medals, and
monuments, to
his heart's content? Has not gratitude of this nation been as free, as ample and as long
continued
as the heart of a patriot could ask? Have we not fully paid up, in overwhelming measures,
this
item of his claims?

Do we owe him praise and panegyric? In the name of heaven, is he yet unsatisfied with
flattery.
Have not the historians perpetuated his exploits? Have not poets and painters and
sculptors, vied
to eternalize his name? Has not the learned University of Harvard dubbed him a doctor?
Have
not dignified assemblies of Congress and the Senate sufficiently eulogized his glory, and
lauded
his feats? Have not the thousands of Anniversary Orators on National Independence for
nearly
twenty years taxed their ingenuity sufficiently for courtly praise for him? Have not throats
enough
warbled his name, from courtly hall to the humblest cottage, from the theatre to the
brothels. Has
the piano and guitar, the fiddles and jews harp, been too seldom strung to great glory?
Have not
the public prints poured their nauseous flattery in torrents copiously enough? What
epithets
of
adulation have been refused him? Has he not been style "the Roman" and by way of
special
eminence "the Old Roman?" -- Has he not heard repeated yet enough, that He is "the
Second
Washington," "the Greatest and the Best," "the Hero of the Two Wars," "the Preserver of
the
Constitution" "the savior of his country?" Has he not been called every thing yet bestowed
upon
the most despotic tyrants by the crawling dependents of their footstools? Has not servility
taxed
her fruitful brain of panegyrics to his actions, till she herself sickened at her subserviency,
&
her
glib and restless tongue tired itself out in enlogies the most fulsome? What more of praise
and
flattery does he demand? Has he not been lauded to the skies in every part of the country?
Has
he not been shown in marble, and plaster, and wood, and canvass, enough to gratify his
insatiable
appetite for applause? Has he not graced the ball room saloons in the mimic majesty of
busts and
pictures enough? Has he not floated on fags and swung upon sign-posts? Has he not
presided
over ten thousand banqueting balls and enlivened and excited the debauch to his heart's
content?
Have not hogsheads of wine glittered in the wine glass for him, & been the pledge of faith
of his
followers? Has not his head been stamped upon medals, and ribbons, and crockery, till we
can't
look about but he frowns upon us? Why, sir a man cannot even take drink but we see him
on the
pitcher, or in the bottom of the tumbler. No Representative, sir, I believe, but can appeal to
his
bust or his portrait, or some trophy of his fame, in the halls of legislation.

Sir, a man can't get shaved without feeling his presence or his razor or his box. No barber
conceives his shop sufficiently decorated to receive his customers without bedizzening his
walls
with this resemblance of his chieftain. Our very habiliments may bear the impress of his
bloated
reputation. We have Jackson hats, and Jackson coats and Jackson jackets, and Jackson
trousers,
and Jackson boots, and Jackson slippers. From our public squares to the country taverns, --
from
the Hall of State to our modest homes, all is Jackson, Jackson, Jackson.-- Why, sir, a man
can't
enter into the retirement of his bed-chamber, but he may see his head, his services, and
maybe
now, sir, his wounds displayed upon the curtains of his windows, or his couch. And yet,
sir,
we
are told we have not lauded enough. His maw still calls for more of the nutriment of
flattery.
Though guns and drums and trumpets have thundered his exploits -- though crowds have
followed him in his journeyings -- though we have huzzahed in thousands at his presence,
and
tossed our caps at his coming, and climbed to the windows and to chimney tops to see him
pass--
though even Black Hawk, his fellow soldier, drew less crowded streets, the Hero of New
Orleans
asks more flattery and fawning. So little satisfied is he with the ceaseless praise of the
people, he
has got to praising himself -- verifying the old adage, that," as his trumpeters are dying, he
trumpets for himself."

When, sir, General Jackson is thus lauded--when, his measures, good and bad, are thus
sustained
and defended-- what more does he want? What is it he asks us yet to endure to discharge
this
mighty debt our country owes him? A debt, so far as grateful hearts and endless panegyric
can
pay, is full paid. If He has the approval of his own conscience, He has had all the noblest
patriot
can desire-- But, sir, it is still rung in our ears that we are yet his debtors.

When we complain of his measures, & ask to represent our grievances, we are told of our
obligations to him, and that it is our duty to endure yet patiently, more, longer, for the sake of
him
we owe so much. What else is it we can owe him? Is it money? Let him name his sum -- let
him
tell us how much his battles of Eckmuefaw and the Horse Shoe are worth -- at what he
estimates
his care of the morals of the people, and his lessons of political economy -- let him tell us
what
price his Kitchen Cabinet is worth, and what he'll take to retire to the saloons of the
Hermitage;
let him say what he'll take for Taney, for Kendall, and for Whitney, et id omne genius -- so
far
as
this country is concerned, I'll engage, sir, it will be cheerfully voted to him. He make keep the
$100,000 of salary received during his military career; He make keep the $200,000 he will
receive
for eight years of Presidency; he may retire with the $300,00 received from the Treasury of
the
United States for his public services, into the bargain. We will agree to state no account with
him.
We'll ask nothing for the reams of panegyric poured upon him, nothing for the flattering
orations,
the clouds of resolutions to his praise, nothing for the oceans of ink spilt in his service, the
powder we have wasted and the guns we have bursted for him; nothing for the millions of
lies
we
have told for him, nothing for consciences seared and faith severed. We'll charge him nothing
for
confidence destroyed, trade prostrated, commerce crippled, factories abandoned, and
workmen
unemployed; nothing for broken hearts and broken fortune; nothing for the insults to the
constituted authorities, his official usurpations, and indifference to the public voice and
public
suffering; nothing for sapping the moral effcacy of the Constitution; if he'll only retire from
office, and suffer the country to recover from the political incubus that is calmly brooding
over its
struggling slumbers.